


my body is a cage (that keeps me from dancing with the one i love)

by paperdragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also i sorta put Adam in heaven cause i felt bad for the dude so yeah, Angelcest, Angels, M/M, Sam is mentioned, Wingfic, so much shameless shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdragon/pseuds/paperdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer looks away and he stares outside the cage, an expression too close to bitterness but then just far enough to be longing. Michael notes that his brother’s wings are torn, bloody and broken, the small feathers precariously broken. It reminds him all too much of when they were younger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my body is a cage (that keeps me from dancing with the one i love)

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing that belongs to me is my imagination and the writer's block-ridden words I've strewn here. Other than that and twenty dollars currently in my jeans, I own nada, which is to say Nil, which is to say nothing. I wrote this is a haze of coffee and gladness that my Mid-Terms are finally over. Barely read it over, no beta and therefore all mistakes are mine. Enjoy.

Lucifer had been his brother, once. Closer, in fact.  Michael never had to speak, because Lucifer had always known what was on his mind, what was bothering him. He had been light in Michael’s life, when there was nothing but darkness. He had been his other half, the other part of his soul and without him, Michael had spent millenniums incomplete.

But now, each in his own corner, they’re strangers, more so then they’d ever been.

Lucifer looks away and he stares outside the cage, an expression too close to bitterness but then just far enough to be longing. Michael notes that his brother’s wings are torn, bloody and broken, the small feathers precariously broken. It reminds him all too much of when they were younger. Whenever Lucifer was angry over anything he would take it out on whatever was in front of him, but Michael realizes that the reason his wings are mutilated is because his brother has had nothing to take his anger out on other than himself.    

It’s been at least two centuries since one of them even moved, and two and a half centuries ago Sam Winchester’s soul departed, self-inflicted wounds covering it.  Adam Milligan’s soul did not even join them- no. He was gone before they came, cashed out on his promise of heaven in return for sacrifice.

The cage is unlike what he’d imagined. He’d imagined fire, and pain, and immeasurable _torture,_ but in a way it is worse. It is solitude, lonely, the weight of insignificance bearing over them, cast into each bar in place. Michael feels as if he is young again, but a decade old, wandering among nothingness with nothing but the grace of God around him. Even then he had not been as alone, and then his Father had created Lucifer, and Michael had never been alone at all. This place is cut off from it all, the grace, the love, the souls, there is nothing here.

Michael is overcome with the need to talk, to speak, to hold someone again and yet the only person who he can is in the opposing corner, refusing to even look. He notices Lucifer’s hand come up to his left wing and pull one of the feathers there, and immediately the small dot of blood that appears.

“Don’t.” He says.

Lucifer’s reaction is swift. He turns his head and his hands tighten around the bars. His eyes are slightly wider, actual surprise in his eyes at the fact that Michael has spoken to him, _first._

“What?” Lucifer asks, and Michael thinks maybe the shock of hearing someone talk after almost four centuries has overridden the fact that Michael saw.

He gestures towards Lucifer’s wings. “You weren’t a masochist.”

His brother laughs, and it has that quality again- not completely bitter. “Key word being _weren’t._ ” he says. “A lot has changed since you last saw me.”

 _And who’s fault is that?_ Michael wants to yell, but he knows without foresight where this conversation will lead.

“Why?” he asks, instead.

Lucifer turns his head again and looks ahead, content to let the conversation end here. Michael rests his head against the bar behind him and closes his eyes.

 

.

 

His brother is in the same position; hands by his side now, still looking out. His wings look terrible, even worse now, bruised and torn. The feathers that haven’t been pulled are askew, ruffled. Again Lucifer’s hand comes up, searching through the hardened blood and finds a feather and pulls it out, closing his eyes in some sort of violent peace. Michael can’t bear to look any longer.

Michael moves suddenly, slow and soft. He approaches Lucifer cautiously, but his brother doesn’t even notice. Lucifer’s hand moves to another small feather, but Michael stops it, encloses his hand in his own. Lucifer’s eyes fly open and he tenses, but Michael only settles behind him and starts trying to smooth his feathers. His brother’s hand is cold, colder than he’s ever felt and as soon as Michael lets go, Lucifer gives a shudder, obviously trying to keep his reaction to the touch hidden and failing.

Michael keeps straightening feathers and tries to avoid the numerous blood clots, only tries to extract what’s left of the feathers without causing too much pain. It reminds him of days gone by, where Lucifer would only allow his big brother to fix his wings, ever. He tries to shake the memory out and focuses on the sharp, biting cold of his brother’s skin. He feels the cold course through him, to the center of his grace and he fights of a shiver. Instinctively his wings come up around them, surrounding him and Lucifer in white.

Lucifer’s breathing takes a turn and suddenly he’s gasping for air and all Michael can do is lean in and bring his wings closer around them. Suddenly, Lucifer leans back and turns his head so that his face is tucked away into Michael’s neck, fearful reminiscence, and Michael feels his brother smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Okaaay..... I hope that wasn't as bad as my mind was telling me. I forced myself to write something, since that's the only way to cure writer's block. Okay, first time writing these two, I'd love to know what you guys thought, if I got something wrong or if I could improve something. Special thanks to jaimee for forcing me to write. I don't regret it. Title's from 'My body is a cage' by Arcade Fire, though I prefer the Gabriel Peter cover. 
> 
> And as always, thank you, my reader.


End file.
